Shattered Dreams
by EaglesFeather17
Summary: One-shot: Romano has always felt somewhat left out. According to himself, Grandpa Rome never showed him the love he deserved and favored his younger sibling over him. One afternoon even his shell cracks a little.


**Shattered Dreams**

Ever since the Italian brothers had united, Romano instantly noticed that he was not like his brother. At all.

His little precious brother had always been Grandpa Rome's favorite. Grandpa Rome taught him how to draw and gave the small Italian all his love. He had treated Feliciano like his successor and heir! But there were two Italies! Romano even had 'Rome' in his name! So why was he always being excluded and ignored?

Romano tightened his grip on the paint brush and glared at his little brother, who was chanting happily next to him while wiggling his own brush and adding messy blobs of paint on his canvas. The southern part of the country fixated his gaze on his own painting. He had wanted to draw a dog or something, at least that was what he had had in mind. Despite his greatest efforts and concentration, the paint just didn't go where he wanted it to! The 'dog' rather looked like a brown poop with a black dot in the middle, the 'nose'.

"Fratello, look!", Feliciano took his canvas from the tripod and held it up for Romano to see. He pointed to two figures in the center of the picture. The two boys on the painting were drawn realistically with beautiful detail, not to forget the stunning floral background. Romano followed the indication of his brother and noticed, that while the one redhead on the left was looking happy, the other was having a sour expression on his face. The second person was also facing away from the other, who was embracing him excitedly from behind.

Romano's breath hitched in his throat. Without a doubt, the two painted figures were them.

"Do you like it?", Feliciano asked with his typical airy voice. Romano looked up from the painting back to his brother and once again to the absolutely perfect drawing. The southern half's expression darkened, and his angry blush returned. The angry heat of his face felt familiar and gave Romano reassurance that he was still himself.

In situations like this one, his self-worth took a drastic turn down south. He started doubting himself and remembered his tragic childhood. But to protect himself, his small child-self had decided that he didn't want to change just to please others. He wanted to be Romano, the part of Italy that no one liked (their bad). In the past, he had tried to adapt and mimic his little brother. He had tried to change and made huge efforts to please others, especially his grandfather, who had only seemed to have eyes for the smaller Italian. No matter what he did, others would always either ignore him or not value whatever he did.

With this anger bottled-up inside him, Romano came to the realization that he had to pay them back. Why should they live in happiness, while he couldn't because of other nations and humans not cherishing whatever he did? When his grandfather died, Romano had turned bitter and angry, furious at the world who he held responsible for his misery. He insulted others and found reasons to hate them, even when these reasons were not justified. Yes, he drove people away with his behavior, who tried to reach out to him, to not be hurt ever again.

Unluckily for him, his brother always found a way to be near him. For instance, his proposal to spend some quality time together that morning, like drawing in the garden.

"It's super ugly, you bastard!". Romano growled, filled with jealousy.

The younger Italian's expression faltered a bit, but turned bright again in the next moment. "Why don't you like it? -oh I'm sorry! I didn't want to insult you, fratello! I just thought that…"

"I don't care what you think, idiot! I don't need this shit painting!", Lovino stepped away from his brother and advanced towards their house, angrily knocking his own canvas from the tripod.

"Fratello, wait!", the small Italian cried, but his elder brother had already shut the door of his room.

Lovino tore through his chamber which was stuffed with antique relicts from his long life as Italy. He was kicking and screaming at no one in particular, until he collapsed on his bed crying and sobbing.

'Why is everything he does so fucking perfect all the time?! He doesn't even try hard!' Tears were now freely streaming from his eyes, flooding his puffed cheeks.

Why was he the screw up? From cooking, to painting, to being cute and adorable, his little brother was better at everything! Romano didn't hate his brother, he loved him a lot (not that he would ever admit it), but it was always a challenge for him to keep his bitterness and jealousy from Feliciano. Sometimes, Feliciano still looked like when he was small and helpless, a little boy without guidance. Romano had a deep connection to Feliciano, not only because they shared a country, but because they _were_ the same country. They were brothers. They depended on each other. They were one.

South Italy wiped his tears away and turned on his back, staring at the painted ceiling. Why was everything so difficult for him? Now he couldn't even direct his hate towards his brother, because he loved him, and he knew that the little one only wanted him to cherish his painting. The painting really was beautiful…

Now, Romano had reached the stage of his anger, when he started to think about whose fault it was that he was so angry. Normally, the scapegoat ended up being Spain, but after the friendly visit of the Spaniard yesterday, it was hard to blame him.

No, it had to be someone who was easy to blame, who didn't make Romano feel guilty in the least, someone like Germany. That potato bastard…

A cruel smirk formed on Romano's lips. Even though it was totally unfair to blame Germany for his life crisis, the South Italian enjoyed it a lot, because then his anger directed fast from himself onto another person. It was so very easy to blame the fucking German, Romano wouldn't even feel guilty for it! Another also fucking perfect person…

Romano growled thinking about the German potato. The big fat muscle-head was strong and very well respected by the rest of the world. He worked hard and always got what he wanted! Different from Feliciano, the potato bastard could solve _anything_ , without ever breaking a sweat! How could people even put up with him?! He was always yelling and ordering people around to do his bidding, like servants! He probably also wanted them to crawl on their knees and to kiss his boots until they were shiny! The German was an oppressing swine! He had no taste whatsoever! Potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, sausages… the most disgusting things of the world!

Romano took a strong grip on his pillow and imagined the German's face on it. With a force, he never would have expected coming from himself, he flung the pillow to the far back of his room and knocked something over. The peculiar sound aroused Romano's attention, it sounded like something shattering, like a glass or a vase. With a rush of panic, the Italian snapped his head to the empty marble pillar in the corner of his room. With horror he noticed the sharp shards in front of the base, gleaming mockingly in the light from his window. He destroyed an antique vase…. A _very_ special vase.

With a loud scream, Lovino scrambled to the pile of shards on the floor and picked them up with trembling hands. This couldn't be possible the vase was one of the only things he had ever gotten from Grandpa Rome. One of the only proofs that his grandpa had ever cared about him (according to the South Italian himself).

Romano's shocked expression soon turned into to a devastated mess of tears and the Italian let out a loud heartbroken cry.

A few seconds later, the door was torn open by Feliciano, who instantly noticed the crying mess on the floor which was his brother. Without a second thought, the younger Italian tried to snap his brother out of his state, talking softly to him. Despite what every other nation thought about him, he could (sometimes) read the atmosphere and was not (always) oblivious to the world.

"Fratello, are you alright? It's only a broken vase. No need to cry over it!", he spoke supportingly.

Romano turned to his little brother, still clutching a handful of shards to his heart. "ONLY A VASE?! ARE YOU NUTS?! IT WAS GRANDPA ROME'S VASE!", Romano, now in hysterics, screamed.

Feliciano's brown eyes widened but then patted Lovino's shoulder reassuringly. "It is not! Don't you remember? This is only a fake vase! You agreed to give the original to the museum to keep it save!"

Romano tried to process the news, slowly remembering the agreement with the museum keepers.

"Oh…", he mumbled.

"Are you alright again? I made pizza for you! Your favorite dish!" How long had he been shut in his room? How long had he cried alone for his brother to make pizza, but then again, the little Italian had always been a fast cook.

"Oh, and fratello?", Italy asked shyly, "Would you mind giving this to me? I want to hang it up in my room!" Feliciano slowly revealed the painting he had hidden behind his back the whole time and Romano's eyes widened.

"Why would you want to have that ugly thing?", he asked sourly.

"It is not ugly! I love the dog! It looks so cute and reminds me of you! So of course, I would want to have it!", the younger gushed.

"Alright, you bastard.", Romano agreed softly, smiling.

 **Author's Note:**

This is my very first fanfiction to be published! I hope to get good feedback from you because only then I know what I have to work on to improve myself!

English is NOT my native language.

Thanks for reading!

I do not own Hetalia.


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